


Ego and Incentive

by gwyllgi



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: M/M, Post-Game, Pre-Slash, So Much Snark, So much Innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 03:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18541009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllgi/pseuds/gwyllgi
Summary: Trapped in the Underworld, what else is there to do but fight until a clear winner comes out on top?  Well..."That wasnottwo, you worthless liar. Didn't anyone ever teach you to count?"





	Ego and Incentive

**Author's Note:**

> Snark and innuendo aside, this is absolutely pre-slash.

Dante's smirk was a living thing, one corner of his mouth curled tightly with a taunt that made Vergil grit his teeth and lever himself upright with the hand he'd braced on the ground to keep from eating dirt (or, well, its Underworld equivalent—Vergil tried not to think too hard about it) when Dante had taken him down. It squirmed under his skin—Dante's confidence and inability to keep from gloating over his wins—and Vergil lifted his lip in a snarl as he regained his feet, sheathed Yamato, and wiped his hand on his pants. "That was _not_ two, you worthless liar. Didn't anyone ever teach you to count?"

Dante's smirk didn't so much as flicker. "Yeah, sure. I can manage two." He lifted a hand and uncurled his middle finger. "One." His other hand raised, middle finger already extended. "Two." He circled his fingers a few times before he let them drop and braced one hand on his cocked hip. "Two. So, what do I get for three?"

Vergil narrowed his eyes. "What makes you think you get anything?"

Dante, damn him, laughed, an easy sound that echoed in the cavern they'd claimed for their erstwhile battleground. "You worried you'll lose again? C'mon, give a guy a little incentive." His smirk made a brief reappearance, replaced quickly by a pouting lower lip that shouldn't have been as attractive as it was. "Bragging rights are great and all, but who've we got to brag to here? Not like the demons care, and I can only congratulate myself so much."

"I'm not stroking your ego," Vergil grouched. "And what have I got to give, hm?"

"Hm, indeed," Dante agreed mildly as he stroked his chin, the rasp of his fingers over stubble audible in the questionable silence that surrounded them. "How about the loser does whatever the winner wants?"

Vergil's eyebrow rose before he could catch his surprise, the gesture not unnoticed if Dante's grin was anything to go by. "What are you, six? No. Absolutely not."

Dante chuckled and took a step closer, lowered his voice to what could almost be described as a purr, and said, "Scared you'll lose, huh? Can't say I blame you. I _am_ at two, after all."

Vergil fisted the hand not curled around Yamato's scabbard. "You're an infant." He raised Yamato to point it hilt-first at Dante. "You think you can goad me into that ridiculous challenge?"

"Yep," Dante drawled, even popped the P. "We're going to fight anyway, might as well make it interesting." He unslung his sword and propped it against his shoulder, as relaxed as if they were on a Sunday stroll. "You win, I'll do whatever you want. I win, your ass is mine. Yeah?"

Vergil frowned, a wry twist to it that dissipated as he huffed an exhale. "Yeah," he agreed, then met Dante's grin with one of his own, knife-sharp. "Don't cry when you lose."

"Devils never cry." Dante laughed—and then he was in Vergil's face, the blade of his sword scraping down Yamato as Vergil unsheathed it in response to Dante's sudden attack. For a long moment, they simply grinned at each other over their crossed blades, before Vergil flung Dante back and the battle began in earnest.

Vergil hadn't held back in their previous battles—he _never_ held back, especially not when it came to Dante—but this one felt different; the promised prize, though juvenile, added an immediacy to the challenge that had been lacking in the past. Vergil grudgingly admitted that Dante may have had the right of it as he parried a blow and sent his fist into Dante's face. Dante's eyes widened in surprise—Vergil had always preferred blades over bare knuckles—as he reeled back, then narrowed as he quickly recovered and kicked at Vergil's knee.

Technique fell by the wayside as they scuffled, striking out with fists and feet and knees and elbows as often as swords. Neither could gain an advantage as they traded blows, furiously covering ground as they fought back and forth, locked in close combat, until at last Vergil smacked Dante's sword away and barreled into him, knocked Dante from his feet and drove Yamato into the ground next to his throat, close enough to open a thin slice through his skin.

"Yield," Vergil demanded, and Dante's chin dipped as he nodded. There was nothing of defeat in his eyes, but Vergil accepted Dante's surrender at face value—a win was a win, even if Dante looked more amused than beaten.

"What do you want me to do?" Dante asked; a shiver of humor brightened his words as he tested the hold Vergil had taken on his wrist to pin his arm to the ground. "You must have something in mind."

Vergil smirked and leaned over him, so close that their breath mingled in the small space between them, so close that he could see himself reflected in Dante's eyes, their shade as familiar as his own. "I do," he agreed, leaned closer still until his words brushed against Dante's ear. "I want you to get us out of here."

Something flashed across Dante’s expression, though it was gone too quickly for Vergil to analyze it. “Oh, is _that_ all?” He tested Vergil’s grip again, twisted his wrist within the cage of Vergil's hand. “You should’ve asked for something _hard_.”

Vergil released his hold on Dante, regained his feet and pulled Yamato from the ground to resheath it. “Infant,” he said with no small amount of scorn, before he bent to fist a hand in Dante’s coat and haul him upright. Dante let him, lips parted with a laugh as Vergil dragged him so close that their breath mingled in the small space between them, so close that he could see himself reflected in Dante’s eyes. “That’s what I want you to do. Are you saying you can’t satisfy me?”

“I never said that.” Dante tipped his head back to study the false sky overhead. "It may take a while; I don't want to wear you out."

Vergil huffed as his eyes traced the line of Dante's exposed throat, the slice Yamato had left in it already long-healed. "Don't worry about my stamina," he said, then released his hold on Dante's coat and gave him a shove back. "I can last longer than you."

Dante snorted as he tugged his coat straight. "You sure about that, Verg?" He ignored Vergil's grimace at the nickname and rasped his hand over his chin again. "Because I'm pretty sure that's a challenge."

"You still haven't fulfilled my last request," Vergil reminded him as a smirk spread across his face. He didn't have to see himself to know that the expression was almost identical to Dante's earlier smirk; their connection hadn't broken despite a lifetime of separation and their own best efforts, and much as he hated to admit it Vergil recognized echoes of Dante in himself, and himself in Dante.

Dante shrugged. "Maybe I like it here." He gestured expansively, arms flung wide as if to take in their environment. "It's homey. A few plants, some photos, maybe a throw pillow or two would spruce it right up." He laughed at Vergil's scowl and closed the distance between them to curl his fingers over Vergil's shoulders. "You, naked, by the fireplace..."

"No." Vergil grabbed Dante's coat again, tensed to fling him away only to reverse his intent and yank Dante against him. What little space had been between them melted away; each breath brought their chests together, every shift brought Vergil's thigh that much closer to parting Dante's. When he spoke again, the shape of each syllable brushed over Dante's lips. "You assume much. What makes you think I want homey?"

Dante's eyes narrowed when Vergil pressed his advantage and slid his thigh between Dante's. "You seem like a picket fence kind of guy." He closed his eyes and rocked his hips against the hard muscle Vergil had pressed against his groin. "Two-point-five kids, the dog, the whole deal." He started to drop his head back, only to be stopped when Vergil released his coat to instead spear his hands through Dante's hair. Held firmly, Dante opened his eyes to meet the laser of Vergil's gaze.

"I have the kid, don't need the rest." He pulled Dante's hair roughly, smirked again when a groan bubbled from Dante's throat. "Do you know why?"

"Got me."

Vergil chuckled, a rough velvet sound, and shifted to slide his nose against Dante's. "Exactly," he purred, then released Dante's hair to stroke gloved fingers down one cheek. "I've got you, and I rather think I'll keep you." His hand curled around Dante's chin as he grinned, knife-sharp. "Now, unless you really are a worthless liar, you'd better get moving."

**Author's Note:**

> See, the thing is... I set out to write smut. I should've set out to write something fluffy, because then I'd have gotten smut. (What I end up with is inevitably _not_ what I generally set out to write!) Honestly, I foresee this being part of a series, though I have _no_ idea when that will manifest.
> 
> Thanks to my peeps for the hand-holding while I freaked out about the opening being salvageable. You know who you are.


End file.
